


Of hands and hearts

by LittleLinor



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, FLIMSY EXCUSE FOR A PLOT, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles set in an au where everyone is human and Yuuma ends up in an arranged marriage to Astral due to his family's meddling.<br/>Quite silly in concept, although not always in content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of hands and hearts

**Author's Note:**

> I need to make a proper post to explain this au, but.  
> To give a quick overview: Astral, heir to a foreign and somewhat shady family, decides to try and build his own company in Heartland both to have cleaner dealings and to get away from his family, and seeks to marry a local for citizenship (I told you it was silly). Yuuma ends up being one of the applicants without his knowledge--until he's already being called for an interview.  
> THINGS HAPPEN.  
> You can probably tell where this will go.  
> Anyway, these drabbles won't be chronological, but I'll try to make it clear at the beginning of each chapter where it fits.

Astral hadn't even _noticed_ he was acting strange until Yuuma planted himself in front of him, hands on hips, feet firmly anchored to the ground on either side, and face set in a determined pout.  
“That's it,” he announced, letting go of one of his hips to point a finger at Astral—poke him in the chest, actually, “we're taking out the heavy artillery.”  
“… I beg your pardon?”  
His confusion was ignored. Yuuma grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the living room and towards the kitchen.  
“You heat some water. I'll get the goods.”  
“Yuuma, what—”  
“No arguing! Now, where did they put...”  
“What are you looking for?”  
“Spare blankets—we do have spare blankets, right?” He strolled out towards the bedrooms, still grumbling loud enough that Astral could hear him. “This is why I don't like others doing it for us—so much for 'learning to be independent,' thanks Akari, I still don't know how to run a washing machine...”  
“… Yuuma?”  
“Yeah?” Yuuma called back.  
“I think sheets and the like are kept in the cupboard in the corridor next to the guest room.”  
“Thanks! Get that water going, will you?”  
And so he did. Thankfully, his old addiction to tea combined with too many sleepless nights had allowed him to know at least part of his way around a kitchen, even before he began living with Yuuma, and the kettle in particular had been his friend for years. Curious to see what had made Yuuma so determined, he obeyed and filled it, put it back down on its base, and flipped the switch, making every part that wasn't transparent glow blue.  
From the other end of the apartment—he remembered Yuuma rolling his eyes when he'd first called it that, and smiled slightly—he heard a smug “a- _ha_ ” and the sound of something falling, followed by a muffled curse.  
“Yuuma?” he called out.  
“All under control!”  
He decided not to push.  
Somewhere, one of the sliding glass doors that led to the roof opened. The water in the kettle started humming.  
It felt strangely—suspended. As if this bubble of activity Yuuma had conjured existed within a time of its own.  
By the time the water was boiling—several minutes of occasional shuffling noises coming from the living room alternating with silence whenever Yuuma went back outside—Yuuma had come back to the kitchen, and taken out the large thermos he brought with him to class.  
“Choose the tea you want—but use a teaball, okay?”  
Rather than hunt for his favourite, Astral watched as Yuuma pulled out some bread, then opened the fridge.  
“What are you making?”  
“Sandwiches. You'll see.”  
“That's unusual for you.”  
“Yeah, well, I don't have _time_ for rice balls right now, and I'm not as good at it as grandma anyway.”  
It didn't explain the purpose of preparing sandwiches late at night, but Astral let it drop and looked for tea instead.  
He dropped the ball into the thermos and filled it with hot water as Yuuma exited the kitchen again, and only got a firm tut when he tried to follow.  
“I'm almost done,” Yuuma called, and before Astral could wrench himself out of the strange disconnection he felt with everything around him, he was already gone.

Astral sat. In the distance, Yuuma's footsteps melded into the echoes of Heartland's night life and disappeared. He was left alone, with the faint buzzing of the fridge and his own breath.  
And he felt cold, despite the warm early summer air. A strange urge to curl his shoulders in and forward ground in his chest, but years of schooling and reflexes overpowered it. His back remained straight, his feet firmly on the ground.  
He tried to remember what he had been thinking about before Yuuma wrapped him in a hurricane and dropped him in front of the kettle. But the memory eluded him, his mind bringing only emptiness and a vague sense of unease when he tried.  
What _had_ he been thinking about? For that matter, what had he thought, done, ever since he'd set foot in the apartment earlier. Surely he must have eaten something…  
Maybe that was why he'd been in the general vicinity of the kitchen…  
“Astral!”  
He looked up (when had his head dropped?) to find Yuuma standing in front of him again, his expression a little softer this time despite the determination and almost-bravado.  
“… you were spacing out again,” Yuuma explained, more gentle than Astral was used to. “Come on.”  
Astral took his offered hand.  
“And don't forget the thermos!” Yuuma said.  
He took it in his other hand, and Yuuma pulled him along with a smile.

The air outside was slightly cool for the season, but its brush against Astral's skin cleared his mind somewhat. The fog left emptiness in its wake, but it was a relief nonetheless. He tightened his grip on Yuuma's hand.  
In the middle of the terrace, Yuuma had… he supposed “built” was the most appropriate word. A huge pile of blankets and cushions stood somewhat askew, some parts rigid and some parts draped, pulled—they reached the other side, and he finally realised that the tallest points of the structure were in fact the metal chairs they kept outside. They supported the roof of what could probably be called a cavern, while large cushions—had they come from the sofa?—formed the walls. Over and under those, blankets covered the ground and thickened the roof, wrapping the space inside in colour and warmth.  
“Ta-da!” Yuuma grinned. “Pretty good, huh?”  
“It's…”  
“A _pillow fort_ , Astral. God, they might've given you tutors and everything but they really skipped the basics of your education.”  
Despite himself, Astral chuckled. It came out less bitter than he'd expected.  
“I supposed they did, yes.”  
“Go on, get in!”  
Now they were there, Yuuma's excitement could barely be contained, rising to skin level and making him fidgety again. Astral smiled and knelt, making his way into the “fort” on all fours.  
Inside, the city's lights cast faded, moving highlights on the folds of fabric, leaving the deeper parts dark. The blankets muffled the sounds rising from Heartland's lively center, reducing the merry noise to a comforting hum.  
He sat at the back of the fort, neatly tucking his legs under him, and waited for Yuuma to follow him in.  
The first thing that came in after him was the plate of sandwiches. Then Yuuma passed him the thermos again—he hadn't even noticed Yuuma had taken it from him—and finally shuffled his way in, before sitting and turning on a portable reading lamp.  
The soft light hit Yuuma's smile, and the warmth of the thermos in his hands became a little more real.  
“So?”  
Astral looked around himself. The space (he judged it was about the size of his bed) felt small, but in a comforting way rather than an oppressive one.  
“… it's surprisingly nice.”  
Yuuma beamed.  
“I know right? It's a pity you missed out until now, but I'm glad I got to introduce you.” He put his arms behind his head and let himself fall backwards, letting out a small “oof” when the ground turned out harder than he seemed to have expected.  
Astral smiled, and Yuuma pouted, before rolling his eyes and quieting again, watching Astral's face as if observing him.  
Astral gazed back. They stayed silent, until Astral finally broke eye contact and watched the lights dancing in the sky outside instead.  
A few minutes later, Yuuma spoke again.  
“… feeling better?”  
Astral's eyes slowly made their way to Yuuma's face.  
“What do you mean?” he murmured, but even just with that question, some of the fog threatened to gnaw at the sides of his perception again.  
“I'm stupid but I'm not _blind._ You've been out of it tonight. Like, _badly_ out of it.”  
“… I suppose I have been.”  
“… mind talking about it? Or—if you don't want to we can just keep playing around at camping. That was kind of the point.” He frowned. “I just—don't like seeing you like this. I mean—maybe this whole thing—us, the whole wedding thing, this place—maybe we're weird, but. I'm your friend at least. Right?”  
Astral blinked. Were they? He hadn't—hadn't wanted to assume…  
Yuuma saw his hesitation and frowned, rolling on his side.  
Before he could say anything else, Astral leaned forward and grabbed one of his hands with both of his.  
“Gladly.”  
“Wh— Wait, you thought I didn't want to be?”  
“I didn't want to impose… it was a business arrangement after all…”  
“… I take back what I said. You're the stupid one.”  
Astral stared at him, dumbstruck. And then he laughed.  
Yuuma huffed.  
“What?”  
A smile pulled at Astral's mouth.  
“Thank you, Yuuma.”  
Even in the dim light, it was impossible to miss the way Yuuma's cheeks darkened.  
“Come on, you're the one who was being dense. Of course I'm your friend. Geez.”  
“All the more reason to thank you.”  
“Shut up and eat your sandwich,” Yuuma huffed, and pushed the plate into his hands.  
“I think I will, thank you.”  
He picked up one and bit into it. It was simple, and left a small stain on his fingers where mayonnaise had leaked out, but felt real. Tasted real.  
The best sensation Astral had had in a while.

“… so what was bothering you?” Yuuma asked when Astral moved to the second half of his sandwich.  
“… many things, I suppose.” To his surprise, he found the words coming out now, no longer dragging dizziness in their wake. “Things have not been running smoothly. It would have been frustrating in itself, but my father saw it fit to call to remind me of the fact and demand to know why I wasn't performing.” He sighed. “It's nothing new. It shouldn't have rattled me so.”  
Yuuma stared at him in silence, then reached to touch his elbow.  
“I think that's shitty. He could've called to make sure you were all right and encourage you instead.”  
Astral laughed. Yuuma only frowned.  
“If that ever happened, I would probably pay an investigator to hunt down whoever is holding my real father.”  
And leave removing the impostor to him. He had never had a taste for violence.  
Yuuma frowned further.  
“… it's all right, Yuuma. That is how things work.”  
“Well it _shouldn't_. And it doesn't have to. And—” He stumbled and searched for the right words, before looking Astral in the eyes. “And maybe I don't know shit about business, but you've been here on your own, and I know you take care of everything yourself whenever you can, and I think _that_ is amazing, okay? And I know you can fix whatever's not working.”  
Once more, Astral found himself shocked into silence. Yuuma blushed and looked away.  
“… and you're not actually alone, okay? I'm here. I can't help with the business part, but I can help with the pillow fort part. And pep talks. I'm good at pep talks apparently. That's how I got this far.”  
“You should have put that on your resume,” Astral teased.  
“I didn't even make the damn thing. Akari did. What did she even put on it—no, nevermind, I don't want to know. I still don't know why you picked me, though. I mean, you had better candidates, right?”  
“It's a trade secret,” Astral said with a soft smile.  
In truth, the application had been eclectic, and quite bare compared to most of the others, but that had been what drew his attention. In the sea of people aiming for power, Yuuma had stood out.  
Yuuma pouted, and Astral reached to take his hand again.  
“It seems I made the right choice, though.”  
For a second, Yuuma looked about to pull out of his hold, but instead he squeezed Astral's hand.  
“Yeah well. Business or no, we're married, so don't try to do everything on your own. That's the point, isn't it?”  
For the first, fleeting time in his life, Astral experienced what it was like to want to kiss someone. Instead, he just smiled.  
“Yes. I suppose it is.”  
“So stop worrying so much and enjoy this _masterly built_ pillow fort with me.”  
“Hmm, I'm sure we could be more ambitious with construction next time.”  
“Oh yeah? Well how about _you_ make it next time, Mr Better Than You At Everything?”  
“I object, this seems more like your field of expertise.” He smiled. “But I'm learning from the best after all. But with both of us, I'm sure we can surpass even that.”  
Yuuma snorted and reached for the thermos's plastic cup.  
“You're embarrassing.” And then, after a pause, “You don't have to wake up early tomorrow, right?”  
“… I can make some time.”

He may not have understood why Yuuma acted so flustered at the thought of sharing a cup and went back to find a spare one, but the warmth of it against his fingers seeped into his body and wrapped the lull of Yuuma's voice around him as surely as the cocoon around them.


End file.
